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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085406">Football Game</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paupotter_4869/pseuds/paupotter_4869'>paupotter_4869</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Most Important Thing. . . [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last of Us (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Community - Freeform, Father-Daughter Relationship, Football Game, Home, Jacksonville, One Shot, adjustments</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:21:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085406</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paupotter_4869/pseuds/paupotter_4869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble of Joel and Ellie enjoying their time in Jackson with their neighbors</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ellie &amp; Joel (The Last of Us)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Most Important Thing. . . [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033674</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Football Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I do not own anything. All credit to Naughty Dogs. Enjoy !! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Last ten minutes!” someone called out. </p><p>The crowd started clapping and cheering the players. Words of encouragement for the short time remaining raised, hands waving in the air, tactics were recommended. It truly pissed Ellie off sometimes. There was no sense of competitivity, no bets to make it interesting. For the sake of fair play, people always cheered both teams regardless, and applauded each score. </p><p>They celebrated the sport, the working together, the collaboration. </p><p>It never failed to make Ellie mad. </p><p>Her chest heaving because of the exertion, she leaned to wipe the blood off a recent injury on her knee. There was no time for whining and complaining about it—this was it. The next ten minutes could be so damned sweet and pleasant, or they could be the culmination of a terrible humiliation that started almost an hour ago. </p><p>“Come on,” Jesse yelled. “Let’s at least try to tie.” </p><p>Gaby threw him the ball and he hid it under his arm as he walked back to center field, waving at his team to reconvene, as well. </p><p>“Everyone in formation!”</p><p>Exhausted, the players followed the order and found their positions. Crouched on the ground, assessing the other team’s strengths weaknesses, they waited in nervous anticipation. At long last, Maria, tonight’s referee, dropped the ball and they all dived for in. </p><p>Ellie found the ball in her hands and dashed forward. Her petite figure allowed her to maneuver amongst the players almost unnoticed, her quick mind and feet, learned out of running away from Infected and humans, kicking in at such perfect moments. When she saw Mike in front of her, however, she knew she didn't stand a chance. Giving her best for the team was one thing, risking a concussion by facing Mike another subject altogether.  </p><p>“Over here, Miller!” </p><p>Ellie spared one look over the shoulder and then tossed the ball over to Sean. She then dived to the side to avoid a hurtful collision against Mike, but kept up to Sean’s speed, and at some point, she knocked Paula to the ground before she did the same with Sean. </p><p>Unfortunately, when she looked above her shoulder, she saw Elsa had managed to stop Sean on his tracks and steal the football. Elsa passed it to Mike and the boy, unstoppable, crossed the field back in the opposite direction. Jesse and the rest of the team tried to follow but no one caught him in time and Mike scored. . . Again. </p><p>“Fucking hell,” scowled Ellie, hoping none of the younger kids present out there on the fields had heard her. She couldn’t stop herself. </p><p>That one play was all the time they had left on the clock. Ellie scowled as Maria brought the game to an end and announced the winning team amongst cheers of celebration and groans of frustration. She dropped on the ground where she stood, unable to take another step for the moment. In the morning patrol, she’ll probably regret the exercise, but right now the only regrets stemmed from the fouls and clumsy mistakes she and her team did.  They needed to do better.</p><p>“Nicely done, kiddo,” Joel congratulated, in contrast with her gloomy mental state. He met her with a bottle of water and throwing a coat over her shoulders—it was getting dark and cold. </p><p>“We still lost,” she scowled, taking the bottle. </p><p>“You keep forgetting that the goal of the game is—”</p><p>“<em>Don’t you dare</em>  give me that speech about sports group, cooperation, and all that bullshit,” Ellie interjected, too pissed off to hear about fair play and bonding with the townsfolk. </p><p>Given her response, Joel sighed in defeat and knelt in front of her, checking her knee. Although the blood had dripped all over her leg, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Just in case, he gently helped Ellie stretch her leg and move her leg this way and that one. He caught her holding her breath a couple of times, unable to put her ego aside for a second and confess if it hurt her. Just to be safe, Joel grabbed the bottle from her hands and poured some water on the injury, wiping it with a handkerchief. A bit cleaner now, it did look like nothing more than a scratch. </p><p>“Hey, Miller,” Mike called out behind her back and her head spun even to the wrong surname. </p><p>That happened time and time again—people slipping and calling her by Joel’s last name. They corrected some townsfolk in the beginning, but as time went by, they let it go. Neither one minded too much. And given the fact that they lived together and Joel was as good as a surrogate father to her, the mistake was understandable. </p><p>“Sorry about that,” Mike said, looking down at her injury on the knee. “Hope it’s not too bad.” </p><p>“I’m sure it isn’t,” she shrugged it off. “I’ll be fine for the rematch.” </p><p>“Same time next week?” suggested Mike with a wicked smile, which mirrored on Ellie’s face. </p><p>“You’re on. Prepare to lose.” </p><p>“I’d say the same, but I think you’re pretty much used to it.” </p><p>“Oh, you bastard,” Ellie scowled, throwing her uninjured leg in an attempt to kick Mike. He moved out of the way in time, however, and Joel forbade her from jumping to her feet and running after the boy. She settled with threatening. “I’ll erase that smug expression off your face!” </p><p>“We’ll see,” was Mike’s non-committal response. </p><p>Chuckling at her eagerness, Mike nodded at Joel and went on his way. These football games were a weekly tradition thanks to the girl, after all, and by now, the whole town was invested. They had organized teams and a league of their own and, except for major cause, no one ever missed a single game. </p><p>The field was starting to clear out, the damp air and the cold breeze quickly fending off both players and spectators. Discussions about the game lingered as everyone headed back home. </p><p>“Come on, kiddo,” Joel said, helping her up—they should be on their way, too. He checked her balance, tiredness, and how she dealt with her weight on the injured leg. Nonetheless, once more she shrugged it off and led the way, refusing Joel’s arms. </p><p>As soon as they walked through the door, Joel commanded her to take a shower and put on dry clothes. The cold sweat and the chill in her bones rendered any arguments useless, and so Ellie went upstairs and took a long, warm shower. </p><p>She changed and settled to draw, and of course, Joel appeared soon after to make sure she'd dried her hair and check on her injury. </p><p>“Well, it seems you’re not going to lose your leg,” he commented, making Ellie chuckle. She’d suffered from far worse injuries out there, both with Joel and out on patrol, and knew she would be alright within a couple of days. There was no need to call Doc for a simple, almost painless scratch. </p><p>He stopped her from rolling down the trousers and showed a band-aid he’d carried with him. Ellie scoffed and yet said nothing, allowing Joel the rare chance to treat her like a child and nurture her. Appreciating Joel’s gentle and soft movements, she had to hide a smile by the time he straightened. </p><p>“You did well today.” </p><p>At that, she snorted, driving her attention back to her notebook. </p><p>“Not really.” </p><p>“It’s okay to be demanding with yourself and your skills, but playing football is the same as playing the guitar. You need a fairly decent teacher, and patience to practice as much as needed. Which, in both cases, is a lot, kiddo.”</p><p>That’s how the league and the weekly games started, after all: with Joel’s promise of teaching Ellie about football. The theory soon bored the hell out of Ellie so they went out to the fields for a practice lesson. Soon more kids showed interest in the game and wanted in. The word got out, the adults suggested they should have a real practice lesson for the youngsters, and the first match began—and lasted for about two hours, maybe even more. Maria chastised them all upon their return to town, but she simmered down after the explanations, and she joined them all the next weekend on the second game. They have not stopped playing since then. </p><p>“At least I got one part covered,” she winked at him—Joel was more than a decent teacher.</p><p>“Yeah,” he laughed, a little bit embarrassed, his hand on his belt. Whatever else he had wanted to say had slipped his mind altogether and he changed the subject. “Dinner in twenty, okay?” </p><p>“Alright.” </p><p>Joel closed the bedroom door, for he would never forgive himself if he sidetracked her artistic spree with his racket downstairs. She’d been trying to sketch a  football player running across the field with the ball under their arm, their muscles tense, long strides. The spot where the face was supposed to be was blank, but she was pretty sure that, if she continued working on it, Joel’s face would appear. </p><p>The precautions were unnecessary, Ellie sighed as she picked up her pencil and returned to her drawing. He wouldn’t have bothered her either way, for she grabbed her walkman, put the earphones on, and pressed play. </p><p>It was a special piece she’d recorded without Joel’s knowledge or permission—a recording of him playing his guitar. When he’d heard for the first time what she was listening to, he’d tried to make her promise she’d get rid of it. He argued there were more interesting and skilled musicians to listen to, and Ellie promised to give them a try, but she kept returning to this one time and time again, and Joel had stopped trying talking reason into her. Her excuse was that listening to it helped her practice. </p><p>The real reason behind treasuring such a recording was that she enjoyed listening to him playing so damned much. </p><p>That was from the first week they’d landed in Jackson. Ellie was having a hard time with sleep, taking into account the nightmares abating as soon as she closed her eyes, and Joel settled her in the living room, picked up his guitar, and played on and on for her. That went on for a few days and, at some point, Ellie recorded him without him knowing. In case she ever needed his music as a lullaby and Joel or his guitar weren’t around. </p><p>Her room was starting to fill with personal, important items. She now had her guitar against the wall, a few cassettes scattered on the desk, her comic books neatly piled up on the shelves, the robot toy she’d saved up for Henry, notebooks, and pencils to write and draw with. . . She lived with Joel, she’d recently joined the patrols, no one knew about her forsaken immunity, and in here, they were safe and sound from Infected. </p><p>Dared she think so? She’d never had any of this before and this place was really starting to feel like. . . Home. </p><p>Safe, taken care of, feeling appreciated, and esteemed, happy. She didn’t even want to think, much less say aloud, that word, lest she jinxed it all somehow. Nothing was permanent in this fucking life and she wouldn’t want to lose everything she’d gotten thanks to Joel. She’d lost so much and so many people. She was sure more loss would come inevitably, but for the time being, she was content enjoying what she had with Joel and Tommy and Maria here in Jackson. </p><p>“Ellie! Dinner’s ready!” Joel’s voice interrupted her reveries. </p><p>“Coming!” she yelled back. She stopped the recording, took off the headphones, and put down the pencil.</p>
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